


There is Love in the World

by foreverobsessedd



Category: Luther (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 13:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17326028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverobsessedd/pseuds/foreverobsessedd
Summary: Just a short alternative ending for series 5 in which John and Alice get the happy ending they deserve.





	1. Chapter 1

He sees Mark before he sees Alice. There’s a moment, just a split second, where he finds himself entertaining the idea that perhaps this time, Alice won’t make it out alive. And then the moment is gone, and Mark’s eyes flutter open, his arm shifting just a fraction, but it’s enough for John to catch a glimpse of the frost-covered red hair buried into Mark’s shoulder.

They act quickly and quietly after that, neither one of them uttering a single word as they mutually agree that Alice is in a much worse state than her companion. They move like clockwork: John gently unwinding the make-shift insulation from around the women that lies before him, huddled into a tight ball - it crosses his mind that he’s never seen her look so at peace with herself, but he quickly banishes the thought, as he does so often when it comes to Alice; Mark steadily unfurling her body from the tight embrace she had wrapped herself in to maintain heat; John bending down and wrapping his arms around her, lifting her into a position resembling the one they had been in just three days ago.

“Here, let me he-” begins Mark, only to find himself immediately cut off by the man already moving past him, Alice curled into his arms. In any other scenario, thinks Mark, they would look like a couple in a loving relationship, messing around and having fun. But it isn’t any other scenario, and Mark knows better than to make assumptions.

“I’ve got it,” announces John, moving past him without a second glance, his gaze completely focussed on the shivering woman in his embrace.

She only opens her eyes when they make it outside, and John puts it down to the sun’s glaring beam above them.

“John-”

The mask she wears upon her face is gone, replaced instead with a stark look of vulnerability. It sends shivers down John’s spine, and he shudders as her glance cuts through him like a knife.

He could look away, he could hide his face and stop her from staring into his soul, he is in control here. But he doesn’t. Instead, he forces his eyes to meet hers, and allows a weak, relieved smile to grace his lips.

“Not now, Alice. We need to get you somewhere warm or you’ll freeze to death.”

They both know she could counteract his remark with a sarcastic comment, it wouldn’t be unusual. Alice decides she doesn’t have the energy. That’s what she tells herself. It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that right now, she’d much rather just enjoy being wrapped in the arms of the man she-

No, she doesn’t have the energy.

The drive back to Mark’s house consists of three things. John, sighing and rubbing his hands across his face, then remembering who he’s with and quickly wiping any sign of stress from it. Mark, sat across from him, staring motionlessly in front of him at the road, hands in his pockets to keep them from going numb. And Alice, sprawled across the full length of the back seat, arms wrapped tightly around herself, not even bothering to try and disguise the rapid inhalations of breath making their way out of her mouth.

By the time they return, John has made the decision to clean up singlehandedly, while Mark and Alice each take a well-needed shower to restore the heat they lost whilst trapped.

Time passes slowly; each movement John makes to restore Mark’s house to its former state seems to hurt him physically. He supposes it makes sense, he is cleaning up the murder of one of his best friends, but that doesn’t stop the pain.

“Feeling any better?” He’s been finished for just over ten minutes when Alice makes an appearance in the doorway. She’s wearing different clothes from before (John refuses to ponder where they came from), and has wrapped a green knitted blanket around herself (John does not think about how it brings out her eyes, nor how it contrasts her hair brilliantly).

Before answering, she launches herself onto the sofa, landing only a few centimetres away from him (he puts it down to her need for warmth, nothing else).

“Well,” she pauses, and John swears he can hear the cogs turning in her mind, frantically searching for a sarcastic response to his question, “I can’t say I’m feeling any worse than I was trapped in that fridge, but I suppose this will have to do.” She finishes with a quiet laugh, something most people would mistake for a way of coping, but John knows her well enough to identify it as her way of announcing her pride towards the comment she made.

But he doesn’t share her humour, and responds by burying his head in his hands again, and massaging his forehead with his fingers.

Alice softens, her sarcasm vanishing as suddenly as it appeared, and being replaced with a look of concern, pity and…she won’t acknowledge it, she won’t.

“John, what happened with Benny, I truly am sorry. I should have-”

“Alice stop.” He musters up the courage to look directly at her, and continues with his eyes fixed on hers.

“This is my fault, all of this is my fault. I should never have involved Benny, or Mark for that matter. This between you, me and George. The sooner we realise that, the sooner this all ends.”

He’s regretting facing Alice, regretting looking into her eyes, because right now they gaze up at him with a question dancing around, urging him to elaborate further.

God, he thinks. When did it all get so complicated? When did she start feeling things? He knows the answer but dismisses the thought out of habit before it can fully form.

A sigh escapes him.

“I couldn’t do it you know, I couldn’t kill him, you were right.” He’s averted his eyes this time, not sure he can withstand the betrayal and anger he’s so sure her eyes will contain.

“Go on, get it over with. Taunt me, tease me. Tell me you knew all along I didn’t have it in me. Just get it over with.” Preparations are made, he mentally lays the groundwork in his mind for an explosion. He knows her, she’s bound to explode.

Surprised doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels when he hears Alice’s hushed reaction.

“Do you really think that low of me?”

It’s timid and personal, an almost confession so full of emotion that John isn’t sure he feels comfortable hearing. It’s the most exposed he’s ever seen her, it’s the most she’s ever opened herself up to him. And it’s beautiful.

“Alice-” He doesn’t expect to be allowed to finish, and he’s correct, as Alice cuts him off with an oh-so-familiar click of the tongue. He’s not stupid enough to object.

“No, John, it’s my turn now. I’m not going to taunt you or tease you for something I know you could never carry out.”

A grunt of disbelief passes through John’s lips, and he finds himself biting his tongue to prevent himself from responding verbally.

“There was not one moment when I believed you to be capable of deliberately ending someone’s life, even if that someone is as vile and deceitful as our dear friend George Cornelius. Your moral compass simply wouldn’t allow it, no matter how damaged it may be.”

She pauses, and John takes this as an invitation to offer up his point of view.

“Where is this going Alice? So far you’ve succeeded in pointing out my failures, my broken moral compass, and how you were right all along. Is that supposed to make me feel better? Cos it isn’t quite doing the trick.”

A sharp intake of breath follows, and Alice displays an intrigued look of amusement, her eyes crinkling up, mouth upturned into a smirk.

“John, John, John. Why don’t you let me finish before jumping to conclusions, hm?”

He sighs, something Alice accepts as a sign of defeat.

“Thank you. Now, where was I? Ah yes, your damaged moral compass. See, John, as you said, I was right all along, you couldn’t kill George. But not for the reasons you seem to delude yourself with. Yes, your morals did play an important part, but the main reason you couldn’t finish the job was that you believed I would do it for you, save you the trouble. Am I warm?”

“Alice…”

“Am. I. Warm?”

“Toasty.” The reluctance is blatantly obvious.

“Which brings me to this: you were right to assume that I could finish the job, John. You were right, because, in the end, it all boils down to one single fact.”

He turns to face her once more. “And what is that?”

For the briefest of moments, Alice lets her eyes drop down to John’s lips, before flicking them up to meet his pointed gaze.

“I would do anything for you.”

It’s the closest she’s ever come to saying it, and the closest she’s ever felt to him. It’s the most vulnerable she’s ever allowed herself to be, and it’s nothing at all like she thought it would be.

She always imagined it would make her feel weak. Exposed and naked. An easy target.

In a way, does feel naked. But it’s the freest she’s ever felt. That’s when she notices John’s eyes mirroring the action displayed by her own only seconds ago.

Three seconds pass without further action.

Then, their eyes meet. A mutual decision, an acceptance of what is to follow, and strangely (or maybe not so much), no reluctance from either of them.

They collide like they did the first time, all those years ago. Except this time, there’s no uncertainty, no concern about what their actions may result in. It reminds them both of that first time, after the bridge and after Marwood and after Mary. They share the same spark of electricity, the same need to feel and explore and open up. But despite all they’ve been through, it’s calmer this time, more controlled. There’s less desperation to make up for lost time and more need to pour everything into the kiss, to communicate everything they can’t, won’t, bring themselves to say.

When they finally break apart it’s like forcing two opposite poles of a magnet to separate.

John looks startled, as though he’s been given an awful fright. Alice, of course, finds this hilarious, and bursts into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. This brings John out of his trance at once, because Alice is giggling. Real, nervous, giggles, radiating with excitement. He lets go and joins her, and soon they’re lying on the sofa wrapped in each other’s arms, dissolved into a state of insane laughter.

They get the luxury of remaining like this for another few minutes, before Mark enters, John’s phone in his hand, announcing to them both that DS Catherine Halliday needs to speak to John immediately.

The look on John’s face as he reads through the texts sent by his new partner are all Alice needs to see to make her decision.

“Alice, I need to go. They need my help and I -”

It kills her to hear the anxiety plain in his voice. He’s expecting her to lash out, and she can’t say he’s being unreasonable for thinking that. After all, she has before.

“Shhh, John. It’s ok, I understand. Now go, before Little Miss Perky unleashes her army of fairies on you.”

The grateful smile he directs at her before he leaves makes her stomach flip. She wonders how she never noticed it before.

When John arrives at the police station, the reality of everything finally hits him. Benny is dead. Another person is dead because of him.

He takes a moment to compose his emotions, reminding himself that now is not the time, that he has a job to do.

It strikes him that Schenk is acting strangely as he exits the interview room, and hurriedly disappears, cutting his brief interaction with John short.

By the time he’s sat down opposite Vivian Lake he forgets all about Schenk’s odd behaviour.

“I have to go Mark. I promise you won’t see me again.”

“Well, that would be a shame,” Mark responds with a smile, a genuine look of sadness crossing his face. Alice finds herself stifling a laugh to bring back a touch of humour to the conversation. It makes her feel less unguarded.

“I appreciate the pretence, but you and I both know that you’re itching you get away from me,” a pause, Alice gathers her composure, “You think I’m insane. A ticking time bomb who’s countdown you just can’t guess and pray you won’t be around when I explode.”

She’s revealed more than she meant to, they both pick up on it, and she kicks herself for being so careless.

“Alice,” he begins, exasperated, “you have to stop. God knows you are what you are but you’re not a psychopath, you’re not…without conscience. You cannot live like this.”

It means a lot to her, what he says, but she knows she can’t let him see that. So instead of thanking him, as she knows someone else, someone good would, she answers with a simple, “I know.”

It does not have the desired effect.

Mark, being Mark, somehow manages to see right through her mask, something she’s only ever known John to be capable of.

“But you don’t do you, not really?”

His moment of quiet revelation scares her more than she wants to admit, and so she tries to disguise her fear as inquisitiveness.

Once again he sees right through her.

“Oh. Oh, you don’t see it. He loves you.”

Stealing a look at her eyes, Mark picks up on the variety of complex emotions racing through her. She looks hopeful, pained and saddened, all at once, and he realises it’s going to take a lot more than just a stated fact to convince her.

“He tried not to,” he begins, hoping he can get through this without somehow angering her, God knows that wouldn’t end well, “it kills him every day because he’s terrified of what loving you makes him do. But he loves you, Alice, even I can see that.”

A million thoughts race through her mind, a million different things to say, ways to argue, ways to agree. She settles on “thank you,” and leaves the house via the back door, just as his wife enters at the front.

She’s taking a risk, she knows that, but she also knows that she’ll do anything to free John from the chaos she’s brought him into. She knows he was right, that this is between the three of them, and the sooner she ends it, the sooner she can stop John from being dragged down. It’s whether she can stop herself that she’s unsure of.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of the first part, Alice decides she must end George herself. Will she succeed? Or will it only bring her more trouble?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t think I’d get this chapter finished so quickly but I’ve been hiding inside and writing all day!  
> Enjoy!

It’s dark by the time she makes it to George’s back garden; the preparations took longer than she had anticipated. She’s missed this, the careful planning of a murder, she’s missed how grounded it makes her feel. There’s more control, more power. It’s the opposite of how she feels around John. With him, it’s more unpredictable, similar to the scientific phenomenon that is a black hole, but less...evil. They suck each other in, collide each time with more intensity than the last. She’s certain that, if they wanted to, they could destroy anyone or anything that stood in their way. The same way a black hole would: by dragging them in and crushing them, making them nothing.

Which is exactly what she intends to do with George Cornelius.

Maybe the two feelings aren’t so different after all.

Regardless, there she stands in his garden, surrounded by perfectly trimmed bushes, carefully watered plants, and...is that a shed filled with shotguns? 

Oh, this is almost too easy.

Barely a minute passes before Alice has ditched her own weapon in favour of one of George’s many shotguns.

Yes, she thinks, letting a sinister grin form upon her lips, this will do nicely.

He spots her before she’s even fired the first bullet. No problem there, she’d rather he knew who was going to be responsible for his demise, she likes to have her brilliance recognised. 

A look of pure horror passes over George’s face, but no sooner has it appeared when dozens of armed policemen storm into his house, shouting and screaming and shooting. The horror has been replaced with a glint of amusement, and Alice wishes more than anything that she could stay and cut it off his face, literally.

But unless she wants to die here, that simply isn’t an option anymore. She makes a dive to the right, only just avoiding what could have quite easily been a fatal shot. Her legs just manage to make it to the back gate when a sharp jolt of pain sends her stomach into a state of bloody mess. Fabulous, back for three days and shot twice. She’s must be breaking all kinds of records.

“Do not move!”  
George holds his hands in the air, a sign of surrender, but not defeat, not just yet. Schenk looms above him, a teasing smile on his lips. But George doesn’t even notice, he has one last trick up his sleeve.  
He’s pinned down and handcuffed, but he bides his time until it’s only him and Schenk left in the room, then he strikes.

“Martin, I think it’s time you and I discussed getting me some legal protection.” It’s a subtle move, but the first of many.

Schenk misses it entirely, too focussed on the death of one of his own, one of his friends.  
“I can’t put it together, George. I’ve tried, but I can’t work out what happened.” There’s no fight left in his voice, only a tired noise of defeat.  
“I need a show of good will,” he continues, gathering what remains of his strength, “an upfront payment. Right now.”  
There’s no command, no discussion, just one of Schenk’s men entering the room and uncuffing George.  
He plays it safe, and, remaining silent, hands Schenk his phone, the image of John hovering over a body glaring on the screen.  
The shock and disbelief on the other man’s face gives George the sign he needs to open his mouth and condemn John Luther.  
“I told you, Martin, your lad’s a wrong’un.”

Schenk momentarily clears the mist in his head, it’s clouding around him, surrounding him and he knows if he’s not careful, it’ll eat him up inside. But he manages to ignore it long enough to issue a warning to Halliday.

“Hey, boss.”  
“DS Halliday, are you with...DCI Luther?” The exhaustion in his voice shakes her for a second, but she regains her composure and answers him steadily.  
“Yeah, I am.” There’s a hint of defiance in her voice, as though she’s trying to lift the uncertainty from Schenk and continue the conversation normally, without the mist threatening to consume her too.  
“I need you to listen to me very carefully.” Her attempt fails, and his voice sounds even more full of grief than previously, she tries not to wonder why.  
“Without alerting DCI Luther to this order, I need you to bring him back to the station as soon as possible.”  
“Ok, yeah.” It’s hard for her not to ask questions, and even harder to try and remain calm in front of John, when it’s just been hinted at that he is a danger to her.  
“If you alert him to this, there is every chance that he will run.” Schenk’s voice takes on a more confident tone, with an edge of anger building up and threatening to seep over.  
“Do you understand me?”  
Halliday takes a breath, just about staying calm and responding in her usual chirpy voice.  
“Yep, got it.”  
“Good. Now get him back to the station. Tell him...I have some interesting news, and I want to give him it face...to face.”  
The call ends, and Halliday lets her own mask slip for just a second, allowing confusion and anxiety to write across her face.  
John picks up on it immediately, and Halliday curses herself for letting him read her so easily.  
“Schenk has asked you to bring me in, hasn’t he?” There’s a long sigh before he speaks, and Halliday wonders if it’s one of irritance or anger. She hesitates, then decides there’s no point in lying if he already knows.  
“Erh, yeah. Yeah...he says that he’s got some news, something he wants to tell you?” She intends for it to be a statement, but by the time she’s finished, it resembles more of a question.  
“Fair dues.”

The rest of the journey is made in silence. That is, until they pull up outside the teacher’s house and John takes the opportunity to clarify where they stand.  
“I’m not going anywhere until this...is dealt with.” It’s a risky move, he knows that. It could result in Schenk coming after him himself, but it’s one he has to make, otherwise, they’ll never catch Lake.  
He doesn’t catch Halliday texting Schenk. 

When it’s all over, and Lake is slumping miserably in the back of a police car, John approaches Halliday.  
“Catherine, I owe you an explanation.” He pauses, giving her a chance to put in an input, but realises she just wants him to carry on.  
“Schenk...Schenk is more than likely under the impression that I’m responsible for two recent murders.” Once again he gives her time to react, but glancing up at her face sees only a prompt to elaborate. God, he thinks, this woman is too nice.  
“I can’t tell you much else, and I’m sorry for that, but I just need you to know that I didn’t do it. This is nothing more than a huge misunderstanding that, unless you let me leave right now, could get blown way out of proportion.” He exhales, lets out the breath that he didn’t realise he was holding. For once, he struggles to read the expression plastered onto his partner’s face. Whether that’s a mercy or a curse he isn’t sure of.

It’s only when she answers him that he realises he’s got this woman all wrong.

“Am I going to be able to stop you from leaving?”  
The question throws him off guard; of all the things he’s been expecting (a panicked frenzy; an emotional speech; or even just handcuffs and a silent condemnation), this blunt, straight-to-the-point assessment was not one of them.  
“I-erm...no, not really.”  
“Then that’s that. If it’s not going to be possible to prevent you from running, then there’s nothing I can do.”  
Pure admiration shines on his face.  
“Go on boss, what are you waiting for?”  
And so he runs.

He’s only made it as far as the second corner when he sees her. Red hair dishevelled and untidy, face scrunched up, mouth turned downwards and icy blue eyes glassy and bloodshot. She’s making her way towards him, clutching her stomach and half bending over. It terrifies him, and for a moment he comes to a sudden stand-still. 

“Don’t just stand there!”

The tinge of alarm embedded in her words would have been enough to wake him up from his momentary slumber, but it’s the way her voice cracks as she speaks that really does it for him.  
He’s at the top of the street and next to her before he so much as take another breath. It’s lucky too, because the second he reaches her, her legs give way and her body collapses into his arms. 

“This feels awfully familiar,” manages Alice, adding a forced laugh at the end in hopes of lessening the ever-growing seriousness of the situation.  
Her efforts are pushed aside as John aims a glare at her so intense and full of emotion that it forces her to turn the other way.  
“Alice, what have you done? What happened?” A certain panic enters his tone, mirroring Alice’s from only seconds ago.  
Shrill laughter fills the air around them, bitterness and anger and pain all rolled into one as Alice admits her failure, “Turns out I couldn’t do it either, how ironic!”  
An element of unstableness is present in her revelation, and John is reminded of their exchange on the phone so long ago, the one he tried to cover up by telling his colleagues it had been his ex-wife, and not a certain malignant narcissist.

Right now, however, he’s more confused than anything else.

His bewilderment is expertly picked up on by Alice; nothing else could be expected really.  
“Kill George,” she clarifies, sucking in a breath and steadying herself against John, “Your big boss interrupted us with his gaggle of armed policemen. You really ought to explain to him that I was only trying to do him a favour.”  
She’s pouting now, toying with him by trying to appear more innocent than she’s ever been in her whole life.  
“Rather rude of them to open fire, don’t you agree?”  
Her mask is back on, draped across her face in an attempt to convey humour, rather than the sense of dread that dangles above her.

John, ever the gentleman, wraps his arm around Alice, careful not to aggravate her wound but still adding the extra support she won’t admit she needs.

“We need to move, get you somewhere safe. If Schenk knows you’re alive then we’re in more trouble than I thought. I’m not exactly in his good books right now.”  
This time Alice doesn’t need to fake a laugh, if John didn’t know any better he’d say she was truly delighted by his implication.

“Now, John, have you been naughty?” She revels in the normality of the turn their conversation has taken. The playfulness brings her joy; she’d forgotten how immensely fun it was to mess with the man who’s embrace she was tightly wrapped in.

It only adds to her delight when John flashes her a sarcastic smile, before remembering what was happening and turning serious once more.  
“George has a, um, a photo of me...standing above his hitman’s body and holding a gun,” he’s staring at the ground now, determined not to meet Alice’s enquiring gaze, “From what it sounded like on the phone, he’s shown Schenk. And in Schenk’s mind that places me as the top suspect for both his and Benny’s murders.” He awaits Alice’s reaction.

“John, look at me.”  
He pulls his eyes up to meet hers, expecting to find them full of fire and anger, but after searching them sees only understanding and pity. Sometimes he forgets how much Alice has changed since he first met her at the station.

“I told you before...those people, the ones you mistakenly call ‘friends’, are nothing more than vampires. You,” she amends her misuse of pronouns, “we, need to leave before this escalates any further and you get blamed, once again might I add, for a crime that you did not commit.” She finishes, not with a look of satisfaction (which would have definitely appeared if they had had this same conversation three years prior), but with an encouraging smile that spreads across her entire face and lights up her features. 

He wants to let her know that she’s right, something he would’ve been too proud to admit in the past, but he’s sensible enough to recognise that the most important thing is to get Alice to safety.

“We can talk about this later,” he promises, “but right now we need to focus on getting as far away from here as possible in a short space of time. Got any ideas?”

Ten minutes, one stolen car, and multiple stitches later, the two of them are back at Alice’s parents’ house, wounds tended to and all.  
It’s nowhere near as bad as either of them had feared, and once it’s all dealt with they bask in the fleeting relief that washes over them both. It’s all too easy to disregard the events outside of the house and pretend they’re in a world of their own.

But soon reality kicks in, or at least it does for John. 

Alice is awoken by a kiss on the top of her head, tickling her hair and stirring butterflies that do not exist in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes flutter open, and the fantasy is ruined by what she sees in front of her.

“Where are you going?” It comes out harsher than she meant it to, and she knows she could amend it, apologise even, but she decides it’s a fitting reaction to John nearly walking out of the front door, so ready to abandon her again.

“I..well,” he tries again, this time more sure of his answer, “I figured since you’re all patched up and ready to go you’d want me out of your hair,” he’s not doing a good job at disguising his uncertainty, so he gives it one more shot and encompasses Alice’s signature dash of humour, “You know, so that you can disappear again, fake your own death, I don’t know.” 

Alice watches him, an identical pained expression on her face. There’s no use for her mask now, he’d only see right through it.

“What on earth makes you think that?” There’s genuine hurt in her eyes, and John isn’t sure what she wants him to say, so he says nothing.

“You and me, John, we’re in this together now, for better or for worse,” she huffs a laugh at her reference; maybe her pride isn’t gone after all, “We’re equals and opposites, the same but oh-so-very different. Yin and yang; Bonnie and Clyde; Bert and Ernie, remember?” 

He does remember, couldn’t forget even if he tried. Part of him wishes they could be back in his old apartment, Alice pressed up against him, like a devil whispering in his ear, a devil with no concept of personal space. If he could go back, he’d accept her offer of travelling, her promises of adventure and mystery and seduction. But he can’t, and they aren’t in his old apartment, they’re in a house haunted by the murders that took place there. He wonders if this time he can make the right choice.

“I had an interesting conversation with Mark after you left. He helped me realise something, two things actually, if we’re being specific.”  
“And what were they?”  
She pauses, he supposes she’s preparing a response intended to pique his interest.

“The first was that he’s not quite as unobservant and incessantly boring as I initially believed him to be.” John just about succeeds in morphing his laugh into a cough, but Alice smiles nonetheless.  
“The second...well the second is something I’ve had quite a bit of trouble accepting.”  
The vulnerability solely reserved for him is once again present on her face, and John has to scold himself for the look of awe that has snuck onto his face.  
“And what was that?”  
She wastes no time in answering him.  
“That I’m not a psychopath. That I’m not incapable of sentiment and empathy and all that nonsense.” She’s deflecting her emotional exposure and turning to humour again, despite knowing there’s no point.

Her confession causes John to suck in a breath. She won’t look at him now, and he knows it’s because she’s afraid, terrified even, of what she might find.

“Alice?” 

She can’t bear to face him, to risk seeing what could only be amusement and taunting painted across his face. 

“Yes?”

“He was right.”

It’s all she needs to hear. There’s no need for declarations and meaningful conversations because that’s not how they work. They both know that. Their relationship is built on trust and mutual understanding, not pointless three-word phrases. 

John has long since moved away from the front door and is now positioned next to Alice on the sofa. She allows her head to rest on his shoulder and a content sigh rolls out of her mouth.

He looks down at her, at this woman that will forever remain a mystery to him, but who he discovers something new about every single day.

“So,” he wonders aloud, “what now?”

**Author's Note:**

> So that was the first chapter!  
> Please review and let me know what you thought!


End file.
